Reform School
by Inks Inc
Summary: Wild and wilful, eighteen-year-old Anastasia Steele's reckless streak has landed her in the crosshairs of the state's new rehabilitation program for criminal offenders under thirty-five. Sent for reform to the formidable Seattle Salvation Academy, she arrives determined to make life as difficult as possible for the infamous chief administrator and disciplinarian, Christian Grey.
1. Arrival

Row after row were inspected with his scalding gaze.

Cadets stood to the stiffest of attention. These were his most seasoned students; their rehabilitation was nearly at an end. They were the Seniors and they knew what was expected of them, in excruciating detail. He stalked past them at a stiff gait, eyes peeled for a scuffed shoe or a stray hair. The simple uniform of fitted khaki green pants and matching shirt were, on each girl, pressed and starched to perfection. Supple and sensible black boots shone brighter than bright on each pair of feet.

He came to an abrupt halt at the front face of the five inspected rows.

"Girls, inspection over. At ease."

A subtle ripple of relaxation trickled through the ranks. Shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the girls who dared, snuck a peek at the commanding figure they all loved and loathed in equal measure. He stared back impassively, analytically. The riding crop was, as ever, tucked neatly under his arm, ready to address any infraction he might happen across. He allowed the silence to spiral under the spring sun for a moment longer, before clearing his throat and throwing an arm to the imposing building that loomed large behind them.

"Your time here is nearly at an end, your education is almost complete. And that means that you are all leaving here with _what?_ "

They were to answer in unison and with pitch-perfect accuracy.

And they knew it, their answering chorus filling the lightly scented air.

"Integrity, industry and independence, Sir."

He nodded approvingly, renewing his pacing, scrutinizing the front row with every step. Their eyes followed him subtly, their hearts hammered silently. This was his first finishing class, his debut into the world of legally imposed rehabilitation, with a twist. A corporal twist. Their names, surnames of course, rattled off in his head as he stalked up and down.

 _McClune, Davis, Jacobson, Lomas, DeMarco, Potterton, Allermond…_

His seven most testing, but subsequently rewarding, students. These seven girls had arrived as brash and brawling eighteen-year-olds, and were leaving as well-educated, well-adjusted twenty-one-year-olds. Their extensive criminal records, upon completion of the three-year programme, would be expunged and they were primed to attend the university of their choosing on a full scholarship. They nearly hadn't made it. On so _many_ occasions, he had been a whisper away from snatching up the phone and calling the prison board, informing them that said girls had been determined as Class A.

 _Not suitable for specialized rehabilitation._

But his stubborn streak had prevented that. He would not suffer failure, he would prove himself and he would raise these girls from the dredges from whence they came. Even if it killed him, or them. All seven had spent more than their fair share of time in his office… receiving… _special attention._ Their eyes kept his riding crop in full view as he stalked up and down and he allowed himself a private smirk.

Experience was an invaluable teacher.

His voice, clear and commanding, easily carried over the crowd.

"And what does one do with integrity, industry and independence?"

Their chorus was once again, spot on.

"Better oneself, Sir."

He nodded thoughtfully, engrossed in contemplation as he eyed them. The days of their morning inspections, of daily drills and intensive classes were coming to an end. He had watched every single one of them flourish, albeit with an initial reluctance under his and his staff's tutelage. He might never be in a position to say it, but he felt it.

Pride.

"That's right," he praised quietly, "And what does everyone here have the potential to be when they strive to better themselves?"

He smiled inwardly at their enthusiastic response.

"Extraordinary, Sir."

He believed that, he truly believed that, and it taken gruelling commitment and accepting hatred on a mass scale, but he had finally gotten them to believe it, too. He saw himself in these girls. In these bright, talented… misguided girls. He saw himself in McClune, in defensively sarcastic, wildly untameable McClune. He saw himself in Davis, in distrusting and suspicious Davis. He saw himself in Jacobson, in intelligent but disinterested Jacobson. He saw himself in Lomas, in damaged and betrayed Lomas. He saw himself in DeMarco, in introverted and introspective DeMarco. He saw himself in Potterton, in awkward and misplaced Potterton.

But it was Allermond that held up the clearest mirror.

She and he had warred for a solid two years.

She had defied and defied and he had reasoned and reasoned. She had defied and defied and he had warned and warned. She had defied and defied and he had punished and punished and… they began to make progress. Some girls, he learned, responded better to a firmer hand than others. What worked with DeMarco, didn't work with Jacobson. That had been his biggest learning curve, appreciating the individual and responding accordingly.

And as he stared out over his first graduating class, he was happy in his learnings.

"Extraordinary indeed," he replied thoughtfully. "Ok, graduation preparations are on the agenda for this morning, you will all skip first period and report to Coach Finnerty for a rundown on how it's all going to shape up. She's expecting you in the games hall and she does not, as you know, like to be kept waiting."

He cleared his throat.

"Dismissed."

The usual gurgle of voices piped up at his command and the girls broke formation and mixed freely. Excitement buzzed in their circles, their imminent release back into society growing more pressing by the day. He watched them go, working through the day's schedule in his mind, before being interrupted by a scrumptiously stalling Allermond. He raised a brow in question, but the girl remained deliberately mute and he realized she wanted a private word.

When the last girl but she turned the corner, he cleared his throat.

"Allermond, what can I do for you?"

She eyed him cautiously for a moment, before taking a deep breath.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

He nodded immediately.

"Granted."

She took a step closer and braced herself. He could tell that this was something she had been working up to for a while and worry pierced him. Allermond was unpredictable on her best day and what was about to come out of her mouth was anyone's guess. She eventually spit out the words she was chewing on.

"I got accepted into Columbia. I'm going to be a lawyer."

What he would term a "stupid smile" burst onto his face as his eyes widened.

"Wow. Allermond, that's-"

"Because of you," she interrupted, a very rare occasion and even rarer to go unchallenged. "If you hadn't terrorized me on a daily basis for three years, I never would have got it together enough to do this and I'd have a record hanging over my head for the rest of my life. I know you were close to determining me as a Class A so many times and I… I just wanted to say thanks… for you know, not doing that. Even if it did mean that you beat my ass six ways from Sunday on the daily."

He snorted and shook his head with a wry grin.

 _Classic Allermond._

"You're as eloquent as ever, Allermond. But I'm very happy for you. Hard work always pays off in the end, remember that. Now, report to Coach Finnerty before she has my head on a stick."

The girl grinned, and he saw in HD clarity, the difference in her.

"Scared, Sir?"

He shook his head in bemused exasperation.

"What was that you were saying about an ass beating, Allermond?"

She laughed and turned, running off after her classmates without another word. He watched her retreating back for a moment and allowed himself to taste the fruits of his labor. These girls had started off as being the bane of his life and now… now they were a significant blessing in it, not that they'd ever know that.

He would take that secret to his grave.

These girls could never _ever_ know he had a soft spot for them.

They would take that inch and spin a mile worth of rope to hang him with.

The crunch of tires on gravel caught his attention and he dismissed Allermond and her sass from his mind and braced himself for his next challenge. The new freshman class of the _Seattle Salvation Academy for Young Women_ had arrived _._ Of course, that was just a fancy name that the government insisted on using. SSA was a military style boot camp for delinquent women, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, with a history of criminal offending from the age of fourteen and up. SSA was their last chance saloon before doing real time at a state facility and having a criminal record for the rest of their lives. It was a new incentive, designed to combat the staggering increase in criminal offending in the under thirty-fives. Separate facilities for male and female cadets were springing up all over the nation.

Essentially, these centres were a softer option than a real correctional facility.

Save for a few key differences.

One _,_ a cadet had to request and apply for admission to a centre and be at least eighteen years old i.e. of majority.

Two, a cadet had to, in doing so, consent to the use of _reasonable corporal punishment._

Three, a cadet had to, in writing, commit to investing in the improvement of themselves through education and other means of support, or face reassignment to a real correctional facility.

The bus pulled to a halt and he walked slowly alongside it, coming to a rest at the opening door and bracing himself for the next three years of his life. Consoling his frayed nerves, he rehashed the conversation with Allermond. If he could cure that imp of her destructive ways, he could deal with whatever was about to come off that bus. Not yet dressed in their Seattle Salvation Academy uniforms, the young women that slouched off the bus were clad in their own, and to his mind, outrageous clothing.

The driver and two prison officers hopped off and handed him the call sheet.

Before rapidly hopping back on and tearing out the gates they had just come through, each thanking God he wasn't the one who had to deal with the hells angels they'd just dropped off. He sighed at their theatrics and set to work, feeling all eyes on him and being utterly unbothered by the fact. For the most part, each girl was too out of her element to cause any trouble, that usually began when they found their feet and he had no issue in dispatching them into the care of his deputy, Mandy, who had appeared at his side silently, as she always did.

Making short work of the list, he called out the last name and scowled internally when the girl in question stubbornly ignored him, folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes very pointedly in his direction.

He closed his eyes and growled his most fearsome growl.

 _"_ _Steele, Anastasia."_

Still nothing.

Beside him, Mandy smiled a small smile and murmured under her breath.

"Meet your new Allermond, Dean Grey."

…..

TBC

A/N: With Steele v Grey coming to an end with the next chapter (up soon), I finally have room to let this plot bunny hop! This is AU, obviously nothing like these should be sanctioned in real life, it's fiction people! ?

Inks x

…..


	2. Declaration of War

_"_ _Steele, Anastasia."_

His syllables shivered with ice. He stared down at the insolent, abrasive looking girl with a taut jaw. He recognized the defensive and destructive gleam in the startlingly blue eyes. She was trouble and she was troubled. A destructive combination at best, and an impossible combination at worst. His brow raised slowly when she deliberately ignored his call for the third time, suffering severe flashbacks of Allermond's first day. He cleared his throat, reminding himself he had broken the unbreakable before, and built them back up.

And he could do it again.

Mandy took her cue and slowly sidled away, shaking her head in chagrin.

That girl had no idea what she was letting herself in for.

His voice carried, low and smooth, on the balmy air.

"Let me break this down for you, Steele. Let me break it down real small. Either you cooperate with me from the get-go, or your time here is going to go from difficult to disastrous _real_ quick. This isn't some white-collar country club. This isn't some after-school special. This is the Seattle Salvation Academy young lady, and step one in the salvation programme, is recognizing your lord and saviour and surrendering your will to him."

His polished black shoes crunched loudly upon the gravel as he took a step closer.

"And you're looking at him, Steele. You're looking at him. You are in the presence of your lord and saviour. My name is either Mr Grey, Dean Grey or Sir. Dealer's choice. But when _I_ speak to _you_ , you will look me in the eye and you will answer me with short, sharp syllables. You will do this, and you'll thank your lucky stars that it's _me_ you're talking to, and not Warden Bloomberg over at the state facility for female correction. Because if you don't… if you don't Steele… I'll boomerang your ass outta here and over there faster than you can blink. Is that understood? Have you, perhaps, found the virtue of speech?"

Bored blue eyes rolled to his and his teeth ground together like mortar and pestle.

"Have you ever thought about adapting that speech for Broadway?"

Her voice was light and feminine, but with an undercurrent of venom. His pupils dilated with anger, his palms twitched. A salving breath worked its way through his windpipe and lungs, soothing him, reminding him of the cardinal rule. Never, _ever,_ rise to the bait. He eyed her dispassionately, refusing to be the bull to her red rag. No cadet at the Academy had ever seen him break a sweat or lose his cool, he was notoriously even-footed and calm-headed. And this… this _wench…_ wasn't about to change that fact before ever setting her petulant feet in his fiefdom.

"Cadet Steele… this conversation is at an end. You will accompany me to intake and report to your assigned dormitory with the rest of the girls. Today is a mere exercise in acclimation. Tomorrow, your new life begins. You would do well to heed my advice and rise in the morning with a better disposition and manner. You will find me much less forgiving of insolence in tomorrow's light, I give you my word. Now, follow me."

He turned curtly on his heel and marched forwards, expecting to hear the strains of her feet trailing behind him.

He stopped short, irritation slicing through his spine.

There were no sounds of following footsteps.

Spinning swiftly around, his head shook side to side with ire of its own volition as he saw her standing stock still, the same mutinous and obstinate expression etched into her face, her arms firmly folded across her chest. His own chest puffed with a breath of purest irritation. He stalked slowly towards her, his gray eyes flashing ominously. His crop was still tucked under his shoulder, but he would not be breaking that cardinal rule, either. Contrary to popular belief amongst the girls, he rarely used it, and an unwritten but inherent rule of his own personal rulebook dictated that he never corporally chastise a cadet on their first day.

He liked to start off their time on as positive a note as possible.

But this… this _Steele…_ she was making that intention difficult as all manner of hell.

They were once again nose-to-nose.

She radiated with defiance, glaring up at him with unblinking eyes.

His voice dropped an octave as he struggled to maintain his thundering temper.

"Cadet Steele, do yourself a favor and listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth. There are some fights in life that you should always fight, there are some fights that you should always win. This is not one of them. I am not an opponent that you want, or need. I am here to ensure that you walk out of those gates as the best version of Anastasia Steele that exists. We are not on the same level, you and I. Get that through your head and heed it. We are not equally matched contenders. You keep this up, you try this with me on a daily basis and you are going to find out that I take little girls like you and eat them for breakfast. Do you understand? I am-"

"You are Christian Trevelyan-Grey," she interrupted curtly, eyes spilling over with an odd sense of disinterested contempt. "Born in Detroit but adopted at aged four and relocated to Seattle, Washington. Raised in the household of Mr and Dr Trevelyan-Grey, brother to Mia and Elliot Grey. An exemplary child, teenager and young adult. Educated at the best private schools, graduated top of your class from Harvard. Ought to have made a killing in the private sector, but chose to devote your, remarkably solitary and single life, to the rehabilitation of Seattle's tortured souls and to date, sailing is your only outside passion of note."

Her eyes trailed down his torso and a dark brow was raised.

"A pursuit you also undertake alone."

His mouth, for the first time in his career, dropped open as he stared in shock at the bristling cadet in front of him. She grinned cockily at his surprise, throwing a dark mane of hair over a slender shoulder. Taking a step back and re-establishing her personal space, she tipped her head to the side and twinkled with self-satisfied smugness.

"I do my homework, Dean Grey. You don't need to stand on sermon and preach to me about who you are and what you're about. But you do need to jump down off your high horse and listen real hard. I'm here, in this cesspool of hell, because it's the only palatable alternative to a more traditional facility. And I will play ball just enough to ensure that I skip and skate through my three years here, but I sure as shit will _not_ be… what did you call it? _Surrendering my will._ No way, no how. You can call yourself my lord and saviour all you want, but I don't recognize you as anything more than a self-righteous little rich boy who gets his rocks off by walking around this shithole like King fucking Kong, lording over his subjects."

He writhed with raw anger, staring down at her with a paling expression.

His voice was smooth with controlled but catastrophic rage.

"You really want to go toe-to-toe with _me,_ Cadet Steele? You think you're ready for that?"

She inched closer, her contrastingly cheerful scent invading his nostrils, her scuffed converse shimmying up on his mirror-shine shoes, smiling up at him in a cut and dry declaration of war.

"Oh, Dean Grey, that isn't the question you should be asking yourself… the question you _should_ be asking yourself is… are _you_ ready for it?"

…..

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"Tell me, Steele, do they speak English from whence you came?"

Belligerent blue eyes swivelled through a pivot of insolence to meet his glare.

"Tell me, Grey, does the stick up your ass impinge upon your small bowel?"

Gasps filled the air. It was only day two, but the more sensible cadets of SSA already knew that the cardinal rule was to never, _ever_ mess with Dean Grey. Three or four girls shuffled nervously away from the silently staring Anastasia, not wishing to be tarnished with her brush of madness. It was morning inspection and the older girls had warned the rookies of what was expected of them. Lined up in alphabetical order, the line containing Cadet Steele languished at the back of the new troops and Christian took his sweet time in strolling with menacing steps to where the newly minted scholars stood.

She didn't back down.

She didn't bat an eye.

She smiled at him with a grim serenity that made his blood boil.

The air was balmy, and their voices carried with ease. He could have continued to address her from the front of the parade. But she was calling him out, she was throwing down the gauntlet and she was doing it front of an impressionable audience. He had spent the night perturbed by Anastasia Steele, perusing her file and trying to figure out whether he should feel sorry for her or whether he should sorry for his damned self.

She was no Allermond.

She was Allermond on steroids and _then_ some.

But his golden rule was his golden rule and insurmountable challenge or not, Anastasia Steele was _never_ going to see him sweat. The crop weighed heavy under his arm as the back row melted away into the shadows, but one. She didn't move an inch, thrusting her chin out in defiance as he walked slowly in front of her row and landed with a glacial halt in front of her. His voice was a silky whisper, his most venomous tone and every other girl flinched and thanked their lucky stars they _weren't_ Anastasia Steele.

"What did you just say to me, Cadet?"

Her eyes withered with dispassionate disdain.

Her voice, calm and clear, carried across the entire freshman class.

"I was inquiring as to the comfort, or lack thereof, surrounding the six-foot stick that seems to hold a permanent residence in the innermost depths of your anal canal, _sir?"_

Gasps ensued yet again.

Gray eyes narrowed and seemed to spit with burgeoning flame.

"What we have here, girls," he suddenly announced, in his quietly booming tone, "Is our very own class clown. Every class has one, at the beginning. They turn up here with their chip on their shoulder and expect the world to bow at their feet. You would all do well to heed my warning, and _never_ emulate such behaviour. It doesn't fly here at Seattle Salvation Academy, just like it doesn't fly out there in the real world. Steele, you will report to my office after inspection, I am not going to permit your insolence to disrupt everyone else's first real day, seeing as _everyone else_ seems willing to conduct themselves like young ladies should."

With a last and blisteringly reproving glare, he made to move away.

But her voice halted his gait.

And set his teeth on the sharpest of edges.

"Is there some reason you can't say whatever it is you want to say to me right here, right now? Do you get your rocks off by closeting girls in your oak panelled shithole, where no one can see or judge you? No offense, but I'm not that big on going into strange places with even stranger men, so I think I'm gonna take a raincheck on that one. _Thanks_ for the invitation though, you're an absolute sweetheart…"

Two girls in the row directly in front exchanged horrified looks.

Both were thinking the exact same thing as they felt Dean Grey stiffen behind them.

That girl was batshit _crazy._

And she was on her _own._

Turning with furious dread beginning to curdle in the pit of his stomach, Christian tried harder than he ever had before to keep his shit together. She was smirking at him now, a proud expression of non-existent regret. How the _fuck_ was he going to navigate this shitshow? Allermond had challenged him, sure, but never like this. Never so belligerently and never so persistently. He swallowed and raised a brow, looking every bit as calm and composed as he ever had.

"Steele. That's _enough._ Control yourself. You are holding every other Cadet up. Report to my office at the end of inspection and refrain from any further outbursts of adolescent insolence. You are impressing no one, but you would do well to remember that first impressions last."

He moved away, impressed with his own patience.

He had to be patient, because besides his mantra of _never let them see you sweat,_ he had another golden rule. It was one that often put him on the wrong side of SSA's Board of Directors, but it was one he vehemently upheld and believed in nonetheless.

 _Praise in public, punish in private._

Fisticuffs had nearly erupted between he and Jameson, a wizened old prick that bought his way onto the Board for the reputational benefits. He believed in naming and shaming the inmates where their behaviour technically allowed for it, through various disciplinary practices that Christian was violently opposed to, hinging his resignation on the thread that kept those measures away from SSA and the girls he tried so hard, in his own way, to help.

But Steele was pushing him.

She was really fucking pushing him.

He could not lose face to and in front of her.

The girls would never respect him again.

"Are you gay, Dean Grey? Is that it? You want all the other girls here to think you're a manly man by barricading me in your office, when _really_ you like blond guys called _Brad…"_

He closed his eyes and breathed in a dizzying amount of air.

He saw the shocked looks that spread like wildfire throughout the ranks.

All eyes were on him.

All eyes were on her.

He turned back yet again and braced himself. He had to nip this _outrageous_ shit in the bud. This girl, this _Steele,_ she was something fucking else and much to his dismay, he was at a loss as to how to proceed. He would not discipline her by making a spectacle of her, he hated that shit, but she was testing him, and his beliefs were straining under the weight of her audacious bullshit. His exterior never failed him, and he looked as unmoved as ever as he pinned her down with his gaze once more, offering her one _final_ chance.

By bluffing.

"Cadet Steele, you have two options here. One, you close your insolent mouth and report to my office as instructed after inspection to address your outrageous display here this morning. Two, you continue with your toddler's tantrum and we discuss the matter of your discipline here, in front of everyone, no holds barred. I think we both know which option is the sensible choice, so if you _don't_ mind, I'll be getting back to-"

"Your verbal masturbation? Why, are you close to climaxing?"

A shriek of laughter pierced the air and before a millisecond had passed, every Cadet had succumbed to spluttering giggles that they hid with varying degrees of marginal success. Christian's eyes widened into saucers as the bottom fell out of his stomach and a crippling realization set in like gangrene to his intestines.

She was choosing option two.

 _Shit._

He cleared his throat and beckoned to her with a curt gesture.

"To me, Cadet Steele."

…


	4. Mind over Matter

He knew her game plan the moment she sashayed out of formation.

This was her throwing down the gauntlet. It was her showing her cards to the rest of the girls, establishing herself as the fearless maverick, the anarchy loving leader. All eyes were on her as she broke rank and stared him squarely in the face. He saw the awe blooming in each girl and felt his teeth grit painfully. It was working. She was planting seeds in extremely fertile soil and he knew she wouldn't stop until those plants flowered. Not even the cheeriest of birds dared to chirp as the air grew heavy with smog-like tension.

She stopped and stooped with a sardonic bow in front of him.

"You rang?"

He fought the urge to allow his lips to bare back in a feral snarl. This was new. This was horrendously new. Allermond had been peddling in a pool three leagues below this _Steele._ His eyes glinted in the morning light and several girls to his extreme right shuffled away anxiously, desperate to avoid any blowback. His mind kicked into fifth gear. How the hell was he going to deal with _this?_ If he backed down, he was setting a tone he couldn't permit. If he overplayed his hand, he was ruining any chance of establishing a rapport with this screwed-up, distrusting kid.

He could be sitting in some pristine boardroom right now, earning his millions.

But oh no, here he was, being bested by a mutinous child.

"Cadet Steele. Are you aware that you are embarrassing yourself this morning?"

Her astonishingly blue eyes clouded over.

"Dean Grey. We are all standing in the grounds of an institution that undoubtedly violates many, many constitutional provisions. You are dressed like Clint Eastwood's ugly little brother and we are dressed like overgrown Brownies. There really is no room for added embarrassment in this equation. But I thank you for your concern, you're a peach."

His ears twitched with disbelief.

His palms twitched with the cure for his disbelief.

She needed to be removed from the gathering. She was spreading her disaccord through the ranks like a rampant contagion. He knew what his equivalent in other Academies would do in this situation, but he shied away from such… bulldozer-like measures. He truly did despise punitive measures in a public setting. Breathing in deeply, he convinced himself that manipulation was better than humiliation and played his hand.

"Cadet Steele, one of the core values that this Academy is built upon is the value of teamwork. Here, we eat, sleep and breathe teamwork. We rise as a team, we go to sleep as a team and the actions of one member reflects on the entire team. There are no exceptions to this rule. So, I should warn you, if you continue to conduct yourself in this manner… the entire team will suffer for your actions."

He turned to the paling group and raised a brow.

"How does twenty laps around the games field strike everyone… for starters?"

Row upon row of eyes settled on the back of Anastasia's head and burned through the thick bone with beams of ire.

He pressed his opportunity.

"Cadet Steele? Would you care to join your fellow students in some unnecessary and unscheduled exercise? Intensive exercise? Exercise that is courtesy of you and you alone? Because let me tell you, if your mouth doesn't fasten like it's just been sewed shut, that _is_ what's going to happen. And if you or any of your fellow students refuse to comply with the gruelling exercise, I will shunt you and they out of here ten times faster than you came, and I won't miss a beat. The choice is entirely yours."

The color drained from her face as she felt the vibes bore into her soul.

No one was laughing now.

He allowed himself a small, private smirk.

Grey; one.

Steele; zero.

She was battling. If she didn't back the hell down, she was going to drag innocent people down with her. People she didn't even know, people she had no beef with. She could feel their eyes cutting through the vertebrae of her spine, slicing the cord with ire. She had to sleep in the same dorm as these girls, eat at the same table with these girls, _live_ with these girls. She or they couldn't afford to be thrown out of SSA, no matter how disgusting it or its patriarch was.

This was their last chance.

Her throat split into a million pieces as she swallowed her burning pride.

She had no choice.

He had bested her, and they both knew it.

To her credit, her eyes never left his as she furiously pursed her lips tightly shut.

In surrender.

Glaring at her for just a moment longer, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the staring group.

"Alright girls, that's enough morning inspection for today. You will report to your assigned classes within five minutes. Today is merely an orientation where your academic status will be assessed, and your options considered in extreme detail. After lunch, we will reconvene in the Mess Hall and I will be running through your schedules with you collectively and individually."

He raised a brow and issued a short bark, reclaiming his authority.

"Dismissed."

They scurried away, conversing in low and subdued tones. Anastasia gave him one last withering look of disgust, before turning on her heel and making to storm off after the group. His hand shot out and cupped her upper arm in a tight grip and effectively halted her in her tracks. Spinning around wildly, she opened her mouth in a rage, but she didn't stand a chance.

His voice was low and slow.

"Oh no you don't. You and I are about to have a very in-depth, private discussion."

She seethed, vibrating with anger that had been building for years in his grasp.

"I don't have anything to say to you, you _pig."_

He forced down his boiling pit of rage and battled to remain calm.

But his voice still tinged with a grimness he had never heard before.

"Oh," he murmured darkly, "That's ok, Cadet Steele. Because when I say discussion, I use that word in the loosest of terms. You and I aren't going to talk per se, you and my paddle on the other hand… _well,_ let's just say that you and she are about to become _best friends forever."_

He glared down at her whitening face and released her from his grasp, pointing to the looming building behind her.

"My office. Move your ass. While you still can."

…..


	5. Really, Steele?

The stand-off was tense as all manner of hell.

Christian sat behind his rich, mahogany desk with his arms folded and a steely gaze upon the most recalcitrant Cadet he had ever come across. Ana stared back at him with blue-eyed contempt, completely unperturbed by her current situation. Despite his intense urge to reach out and strangle her, Christian had to admire her backbone. She wasn't breaking a sweat or twitching a twitch. A twinge of unfamiliar sympathy worked its way through his body. So hardened, so young. His brow furrowed as he wondered what the hell had made her the way she was. It wasn't right, it wasn't normal.

But it was what it was, and he wasn't a shrink.

He was the Dean of Seattle Salvation Academy.

And he had a job to do.

"Cadet Steele, you and I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. It happens. Not quite as spectacularly as your entrance, but it happens. I'm a reasonable man. I'm prepared to offer you a do over, clean slate. Your time here is what you make it. And with the attitude you're currently clinging to, your time here is going to be nothing short of miserable. And that's _before_ I decide that this isn't the place for you after all and kick you the hell out."

Her jaw twitched a little, but other than that, she showed zero signs of listening.

He sighed.

"Now, believe it or not, I don't want to kick you out. I don't want to kick anyone out. But I have over three hundred young women under my care at any one time and I will not, under any circumstances, allow the wellbeing of the many to be undermined by the irrepressible misbehaviour of the few. Your performance in parade today was reprehensible. It showed neither control nor dignity on your part and it's not going to fly. This is the _one_ second chance you're going to get, Steele. You can either learn the pretty tough lesson I'm about to teach you right now and start changing your ways, or you can carry on pretending like you don't give a damn about anything or anyone until such time as I have no choice but to admit that I can't do anything for you."

He leaned back in the chair and eyed her with a sternness that secretly shocked her.

"What's it going to be?"

She remained stubbornly silent, eyes trained straight ahead, body fraught with rigidity. Christian stared at her with well-hidden confusion. There were no experiences he could draw upon to decipher the enigma that stood before him. She'd only set foot in SSA yesterday and already, it seemed like a lifetime of headaches ago since she'd skulked off the prison bus. Usually, the girls that were the most bolshie in front of the others were the meekest behind closed doors. They were the ones that would cuss him out in front of their classmates and beg him for a second chance when discipline was to be meted out.

But not this one.

Not this unfathomable Anastasia Steele.

Shaking his head in exasperation, he stood and crossed the carpeted floor of his office to the art strewn wall where the infamous SSA paddle hung. Every girl within the Academy's walls had a healthy fear of the long, polished paddle that hung in the Dean's office. With six holes in groups of two drilled along its length and a leather-bound handle for ease of control, it was a fearsome instrument of discipline, to be avoided at all costs. Christian could count on one hand the number of girls he'd had to use it on in their first week at SSA. It wasn't something he believed in introducing so soon. But his hand had been forced and he could not and more importantly, would not, yield. He grudgingly had to admit he was impressed by her complete lack of a reaction as her shockingly blue eyes absorbed the implement in his grasp.

"Cadet Steele, in this Academy, no bad deed goes unpunished. You are here to learn how to become a valuable member of society. Society has rules and expectations. It also has consequences when those rules and expectations aren't met. You have yet to experience the adult version of those consequences. This is your last chance saloon. You screw it up here, and it's into a _real_ prison you go. Trust me when I tell you that the sensible thing to do is to realize the gift you've been given in your enrolment here and strive to be the best version of Anastasia Steele you can be."

He glanced down at the paddle in his hands and swallowed subtly.

Sometimes, he really hated his job.

"Until you develop the ability to regulate your own actions, I'm going to go ahead and regulate them for you. Direct disobedience coupled with foul language and disruption of activities is enough to net you eight licks of this paddle on a normal day. Because this is only your second day here with us, I'm willing to call it even on six licks. You should go ahead and count yourself lucky and take note of the fact that I won't be so lenient if you're so foolish as to repeat this behaviour moving forward."

He glared at her continued silence and near catatonic indifference.

She was either a psychopath, or she had balls matching her namesake.

He was grudgingly leaning towards the latter explanation.

Tucking the paddle under his arm, he pulled out the top drawer of his desk and extracted a well-worn leather ledger. Grabbing a pen, he scrawled the date and inputted the necessary information into the typed template, as he had done so many times before;

 **Cadet Name:** Anastasia Steele.

 **Cadet Number** : 24601

 **Infraction** : Disobedience and insolence.

 **Sentence:** 6 paddle licks.

Pushing the ledger across the desk, he raised a brow at her stationary posture.

"This is the Academy's punishment register. No discipline goes undocumented here. If you agree with the description of your infraction and consent to the decided punishment, then you sign underneath. If you don't, then you can appeal my decision to the Board of Management who can either; uphold my decision or alter my decision. Where a Cadet appeals a disciplinary decision of the Dean, she may present a defense to the Board. If the Board decides that the appeal is without merit and a matter of time wasting, they will enter a mark against the Cadet's name which will come under scrutiny in the event of any decision to remove the Cadet from the Academy and in a number of other circumstances. Then, that Cadet will be returned to the Dean for the original punishment."

He drew a deep breath.

He hated that speech.

He always sounded like a damned lawyer.

She stared at him dispassionately for an eternity, before moving sharply forwards and scrawling her signature under his entry. He felt the first stirring of approval. He had half expected her to stalk out the door, hell bent on causing a scene in front of the Board. Few girls did so, and even fewer were successful, but he still had to present the option. Retrieving the paddle from under his arm, he pointed to a small desk in the corner of his office. This desk often sported a young woman squirming to find a comfortable seating position to salve her scorched behind, tasked with a purposefully pointless written exercise to reinforce her physical chastisement.

Her eyes followed his direction and widened just a fraction.

"Have you ever been paddled before, Steele?"

She didn't spare him a glance, but deigned to offer a short, sharp nod.

He wasn't surprised.

"Good. Then you'll be familiar with the position. March yourself over to that desk and assume it."

A tiny flicker of fear crossed her face, the first betrayal of any emotion. He watched her walk slowly towards the desk, her khaki pants nearly blending in with the horrendous carpeting of his office floor. He walked slowly behind her and waited as she took a subtly deep breath and moved her hands to the waistband of her pants, fumbling with the clasp.

His brows shot up like darts.

"No, Steele… that's not… you can keep them up."

It wasn't unheard of for a girl to be paddled bare, sure, and he had done it before. But no matter how outrageous her behavior, he wasn't prepared to visit such a harsh punishment on a Cadet who hadn't even fully unpacked yet. It would be cruel to do so, and he might be a stickler for the rules, but he wasn't cruel. He stared at her as she turned with true shock on her face, before schooling her features back into an impassive mask. But she couldn't control her eyes and what they betrayed.

Gratitude.

She placed her hands flat on the table, bent her elbows and eased her torso down over the desk. Clearly, she was more than familiar with the position. Christian moved forwards and bit back a sigh. He loathed punishing a girl before he had built up a rapport with them, but he really had no choice with this one. Placing his hand on the small of her back and pursing his lips when she stiffened under his touch, he tapped the paddle softly against her small behind and gauged his stroke. His counterparts in Academies across the country insisted on their reprobates counting a lick and chanting some form of contrite apology before the next one fell. He, personally, thought that idea moronic and refused to implement it. Secretly, he felt that a lot of his counterparts got a sick thrill out of exerting their power over their wards, a thrill he did not share. He did what he had to do, no more and no less.

These girls had mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters.

They were someone's someone.

They were human beings.

The first lick was hard and unyieldingly accurate and the sharp gasp that escaped the hardened Cadet didn't surprise him in the least. The paddle was thick and hard and her behind was small and prone, the outcome was predictable. Not holding back, he gripped the leather handle all the tighter and snapped the paddle down on target with a resounding snap. The khaki pants worn by Cadets were thick, but they offered little in the way of protection and the hiss that pushed its way through Anastasia's teeth was testament to that fact. Aiming for the meatier part of the Cadet's butt, Christian swung the paddle down for the third time and drew the first yelp from the tangle of arms below him.

 _Half way there_ he thought quietly, _hang in there, Steele._

The next three licks were harder than the three before them and extracted a series of whimpers, each shriller than the last. The last lick was calculated to land sharply across her sit spots and would serve as an adequate reminder as to the follies of a smart mouth every time she sat down for the next day. Removing his hand from the small of her back, Christian crossed the room and quickly hung the paddle back up. As he turned around, Anastasia was slowly bringing herself to her feet.

He cast an appraising eye over her.

Flushed face, watery eyes, but no tears.

She really was a tough girl.

Allermond had sobbed under the same correction.

Moving to stand in front of her, Christian raised a pointed brow.

"That was a mercy paddling, Steele. You should have gotten eight and they should have been harder. But like I said, it's your first week and I am willing to make the smallest of exceptions. But I will not repeat them and if you find yourself in here again, this little introduction is going to seem like an all-inclusive package holiday. Do you understand me?"

Her nod was slow, but eventually her dark head bobbed up and down silently.

He shook his head.

"Verbal questions require verbal answers, Steele. I asked you if you understood?"

She swallowed and answered in a tight voice.

"Yes."

He closed his eyes in exasperation.

"Yes, _Sir."_

She looked up at him slowly, tipping her head to the side.

"Don't you mean, yes Ma'am?"

His eyes widened to near socket-popping levels.

"Really, Steele? _Really?_ You want to bend your ass back over that table for more? Because I can certainly arrange that, just say the word."

She threw him a supercilious look.

"Might I refer you to page thirty-three, paragraph four, line eight of the Seattle Salvation Academy Handbook; _"No Cadet shall be subject to two or more separate instances of corporal punishment in one twenty-four-hour period on pain of disciplinary action to be initiated against any Dean or administrator acting on said Dean's instructions, who may attempt same."_

His mouth fell open as she offered him a small wink, sashaying to his office door with a profound smirk playing about her lips, her parting comment murmured in a silky voice of victory before the door opened and closed with deliberate sharpness.

"I did my homework, Christian Grey. You should think about doing the same. Thanks for the ass tickles though, they were amusing. You should think about eating more chicken, you'll soon build some upper arm strength from all that protein. That way, the next time you decide to spank an unruly Cadet, they might actually _feel_ it."

…..

A/N: Following on from, and with her approval, UndercoverSquint's idea of promoting love between authors I'd like to get on board with the recommendation system. This updates recommendation is "Switches" by "Picpicpic." This story is an intense exploration of the switching element in the D/s lifestyle. I have to admit, when I saw a story featuring a submissive Christian, I wasn't sure I'd like it. But this author has a way of really portraying the strength in submission and will make you fall in love with CG on a whole new level. Her Ana is outstanding too. Check it out, you won't regret it!

Following further in her footsteps and with her approval, I've decided to address the many PM's I receive asking for a sneak-peak at upcoming chapters. I don't want to spoil updates for people who don't want to know, but if you leave a "Sneak peak please" in a review, I will PM you with a short excerpt from the next chapter to be posted soon! This applies to all my stories! X

Love and hugs,

Inks xx


	6. Under the Skin

The voice on the other end of the line dripped with exasperation.

"Dean Grey, there are some people that just cannot be reached. You would be better served by focussing your efforts on your… err, students… that are open to receiving your help. Anastasia Steele is to this day my biggest failing as an educator, don't repeat my mistake and try to fix the unfixable. I don't know why she is the way she is, she never opened up a single inch no matter what I tried or how hard I tried it. She's… an indictment of our social and education systems, she slipped through the cracks and it's frankly too late to try and reverse the damage."

Running a hand through his hair angrily, Christian suppressed a small snarl.

"With all due respect, Mr Cosgrove, that is not the kind of approach that Seattle Salvation Academy is built upon. I believe that no young woman is beyond redemption and to that end, if you could just send me over any and all records you have on Miss Steele, I would be very appreciative."

The answering sigh was sarcasm personified.

"Gee, well as the principle of an underfunded, overcrowded and overtly criminalized High School… I'll get right on that. It'll be my top priority, anything for the Dean of a soft prison-come-academy with convicted felons for a student body. You'll just have to forgive me my sarcasm, it tends to creep up on you after thirty years in the education system. You know what I mean? Oh, right. That's it. You don't. You're as green as you are naïve. Good luck on your quest to save America's tortured youth, Dean Grey, but I'm afraid I'm far too busy here in the real world to assist you. Goodbye."

The hang up tone was like a slap in the face.

Slamming the phone down, Christian groaned into his hands. That was the last school in Anastasia's long list of suspensions and expulsions and every principle had the same reaction to his request for assistance. Frustration engulfed him. How hard could it be to fax over some damned records? How hard could it be to give even the slimmest iota of a damn about the welfare of a young and troubled girl? Anastasia had been under his care for less than forty-eight hours and she was already driving him crazy, but that was no excuse to write her off as yet another pitiful statistic.

The deepest secret he hid from his Cadets was the source of his fiercest pride.

He had never given up on anyone for any reason during his tenure as Dean of SSA. Sure, it was a short tenure so far, but nonetheless… he had kicked not a single Cadet out and into the mainstream prison system that would suck whatever smidgen of potential left to them right out of them. He wasn't about to break the mould with Cadet Steele, no matter how deeply she got under his skin. He recalled her sassy and yet correct remarks of just an hour ago and gritted his teeth.

No Cadet had ever embedded themselves so swiftly and deeply under his skin.

But she would not break him.

The lunch time bell sounded, and he shook his head slightly. He had achieved nothing in the morning hours of the day, absolutely nothing. His AM had been filled with nothing but Anastasia Steele with no productive outcome to show for it. She clearly didn't give a shit about her paddling, it didn't faze her in the slightest. He was under no delusions that she would be any more deterred from her outrageous behaviour after having been subject to a disciplinary procedure he secretly loathed than she would be if he'd presented her with a puppy and flowers. He felt older as he rose stiffly from his desk and joined the stirring crowd of classes headed towards the Mess Hall.

Mac and Cheese was on the menu.

That lifted his spirits somewhat.

He loved Mac and Cheese.

The faculty table was a long one-sided mahogany work of art that sat on a raised dais at the head of the hall, looking down on ten rows of Cadet tables, organized vertically and by year group. His seat was in the centre of the long row and as he entered the crowded hall, silence was immediately observed, and the seasoned Cadets and faculty stood respectfully, whilst the new Cadets scampered to their feet a moment later with wide eyes. Ignoring the tradition, another one he loathed, Christian strode to his chair and offered a small motion with his right hand and the hall sat as one. There were so many intricacies of the Military style academy he ran that he simply detested.

Like people springing to their feet when he walked into a room.

To his mind, it only served to foster the "us versus them" mentality amongst the girls. But the Board were the Board and solemn, serious Cadets standing to attention sure looked good on the shiny SSA brochures they handed out to the wearied parents of the Academy's Cadets as they drove away from Family Day. The girls lined up for their lunch as the faculty were served tableside, another bug bear Christian harboured but had to swallow for the protection of the bigger picture.

His troubles were forgotten somewhat as he laughed with his favorite teacher, Jon Casey. Jon was similar to Christian in age and views and his inability to take anything seriously was a welcome salve to the often-weary Dean. Lunch was well underway when a shadow fell across the table and he looked up from his light conversation with Jon. His least favorite member of staff, Adam Cooper, a battle-hardened and emotionally unintelligent teacher of remedial math, leapt to his feet and barked angrily.

"Cadet! What in God's name do you think you're doing? Halt!"

The first and irrepressible flinch of fear that flickered across her face broke his heart. Cooper's snarling yell would frighten anyone, never mind a person thirty years his junior. Rising, and seating Adam with a scalding look of warning, Christian turned his attention to a now recovered Anastasia and raised a brow.

"Yes, Cadet Steele?" he said, quite gently for him, "Can I help you?"

She glanced fearfully at a snorting, bulling Mr Cooper and opened her mouth fractionally, before shaking her head and pushing a stray lock of dark hair from her face. He stared at her as a battle seemed to rage in her mind and she took a jerky step back from the faculty table. There was something… compellingly heartrending about her unsure poise and quickened pulse. Christian frowned at this, the most confusing Cadet he had ever come across, and cleared his throat.

"Cadet Steele? Would you like a word in private?"

Jon shot his friend, technically boss, a questioning look out of the corner of his eye. SSA was no different to any other workplace and gossip was every bit as acceptable there as it was anywhere else, and everyone knew of the battle being warred between the new Cadet and the unyielding Dean. Jon was pretty surprised at Christian's gentle tone. Having had a courtside seat to Christian and Allermond's war, he knew damn well his friend had ever used such a soft tone with the vivacious Allermond. But even Jon, the incessant joker, could see there was something… broken, about this girl.

Anastasia's face hardened, and she shook her head.

The moment, whatever it was, had passed.

"No," she sneered unconvincingly, "I was just… lost."

With that, she turned on her heel and with Mr Cooper's eyes boring into her spine, stalked back to her table and slipped in between two other newbies who stared at her in awe. Sighing, Christian sat back down and threw a borderline filthy look along the table to a snarling Adam.

"Mr Cooper, the next time a new and clearly troubled Cadet comes to this table with the obvious intent of speaking to me… don't you dare scare them away. I've told you before and I won't tell you again. We don't terrorize our students here, we teach them. Remember that."

With that, he muttered a brief farewell to Jon and swept from the room.

"That boy doesn't have the balls for his job," a castigated Adam sniped when Christian was safely out of earshot. "These hooligans have no real fear of him and because of that, he'll never be more than he is now. The fool."

Jon frowned at his least favorite colleague.

"Give it a rest, Adam, would you? Just give it a damned rest."

Many hours later, Christian continued to toil in his study, but his mind was only half on the task of budget planning for the year ahead. Cadet Steele was entrenched in his mind. Maybe it was just mindless hope, but he could have sworn that for the split second before freaking Cooper opened his big mouth, she wasn't wearing her obvious mask of rebellious recalcitrance. For that nanosecond, she looked every bit the pale, scared and troubled young women he suspected she was.

He cursed Cooper.

He had tried to get rid of him several times, but nepotism prevented it. Sighing, he tried to focus on his miniscule spreadsheets and another hour later, he was nose deep in debit and credit columns, a brow marring his face as the two refused to reconcile.

He eventually looked up from his never-ending stack of paperwork wearily, but the rapping on the door failed to cease under his exasperated huff.

"Come in."

His usually merry linguistics professor looked grim as hell. In his grasp, stood a smirking Cadet Steele, stepping into the Dean's office with a near pirouette of self-satisfied rebellion. Gray eyes widened in disbelief. It wasn't possible. It just couldn't be possible.

"Professor Hayden, what seems to be the problem?"

The usually benign and downright loveable man shivered with indignation.

"Dean Grey, I have been in the education system for twenty-three years and never once in my career have I been subject to… subject to a young lady of this relentless insolence. I am afraid, after one mere lesson, I can no longer have her in my class. I refuse. I refuse, you hear me? Refuse!"

With a snort of his walrus moustache, he deposited the grinning Cadet with a flourish and stalked from the room. Leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his eyes with near-desperate exhaustion, Christian eventually peeled them open to see her blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction and hear her voice bounce with sarcastic glee.

"Hey Chrissy, did you miss me?"

…..

Today's recommendation is the amazing _The Lucky Ones_ by _T Traveller._ If you haven't read it already, you really need to. This lady is an incredibly talented writer and her story speaks for itself! You won't regret it, trust me!

If you would like a sneak peek of the next chapter, just leave a "sneak peek please" in a review and I'll PM you soon!

Till next time,

Inks x

…..


	7. Alternative Measures

Christian had never felt such inner conflict in his role as Dean of SSA.

If _any_ other student had dared to address him as _Chrissy_ as they were being permanently excluded from a core class, he would have hit the roof. Hell, he would have gone through the roof and scaled the stratosphere. But as he rose slowly from his chair all he felt was a terrible sadness course through him and a niggling doubt upscale to a roaring doubt. For the first time, he was terribly unsure as to the suitability of SSA for a new cadet.

Steele... she seemed beyond what he had to offer here, too far gone... broken.

She glared at him with a smirk that he knew she didn't really feel, her startlingly blue eyes clouded with misguided anger. She wanted him to hit the roof he realized... any attention is better than no attention, negative attention will do if there's nothing else on offer. He had seen it before in the girls, but nowhere near this level. Steele... she was an unknown entity in all things. With a knot in his stomach, Christian pointed to the chair in front of his desk and spoke in such a tone of calmness that Anastasia's eyes narrowed with shock and then, distrust.

"Take a seat, Cadet Steele."

"I'd rather stand, thanks."

He gritted his teeth together at the pointed insolence but refused to take the bait. That's what she wanted and expected and he knew enough to know that if he went down that road, it would only end one way. His voice was almost pleasant as he quirked a "don't do this" brow in her direction and shook his head slowly.

"This isn't a question of preferences, Steele, I asked you to take a seat and you will do so please."

She stared at the lack of rage, the complete control in his voice. Slightly wrong footed for a moment, she dithered where she stood before stalking to the chair with a great display of angst and anger. Choosing to deliberately ignore this, Christian quickly tapped the keys of his computer and placed his phone on mute. He didn't want any distractions this time, this time... he wanted to make even the tiniest crack in the armor of Anastasia Steele. She was the picture of petulance when he turned back to her, legs crossed and swinging slightly, arms crossed tightly across her chest and a scowl marring her naturally beautiful features.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the defensive body language and Christian noted it quietly.

He had to be careful, he realized. He was breaking protocol with Steele and she was only in the door. If any other Cadet had been brought to him as Steele had, they would already be well into a serious paddling, no holds barred. But, he comforted himself as he stared at the girl before him, that he had never encountered a Cadet like Steele before. There had been no Cadet near her insolence levels and penchant for self-destructive behavior in SSA history, Allermond be damned. She was a new breed and he had to approach her as such. But still, he reminded himself firmly, he was the fucking boss on campus and she was going to learn that the easy way or the hard way. His tone was quiet but with the underlying authority that made _most_ cadets quiver.

"Why did Professor Hayden bring you to me, Cadet Steele? What happened in class?"

She looked up through dark lashes, a bored expression covering her face.

"Perhaps he thought you were lonely, Sir."

 _Give me patience, give me the god damned patience..._

Christian offered up the silent plea as he fixed Anastasia with a glare that would sour milk.

"I'm trying to give you a chance to give me your side of things, Steele." You might think that I automatically assign complete blame to a girl here on the word of any of my faculty, but I do not. I will hear any girl out who has the good sense to speak out when it is something as serious as this. Do you think you might have any of that? Any sense, _whatsoever_?"

She seemed to honestly consider his question for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders and muttering a mutinous _whatever_ under her breath, deliberately loud enough for him to hear. Christian felt the urge to shout at the belligerent girl, but swallowed it down with difficulty. He made it a point to never raise his voice if he could help it with any of the girls. His parents had drummed the mantra into him from the cradle that; if you have to shout, you've already lost. He had found this to be a true fact of life, but in this moment, a very fucking tedious one.

"Steele," he muttered, running his hand through his thick hair in exasperation, "give me something to work with here, will you? I don't want to sanction you without knowing the full story. I know it can be incredibly difficult to settle in here and-"

"You know nothing," Anastasia suddenly snapped, looking up at him with an instantaneous and unsettling burst of anger. "You people think you know everything, but you know fuck all. You don't know anything about me... or any poor bitch here, for that matter. You just sit there on top of your fiefdom and make mega bucks off the back of our collective misery. You're the worst kind of hypocrite because you pretend to give a shit. You make me _sick."_

Christian's brows shot up to heaven and a phrase he hated battered his skull.

Be careful what you wish for...

"You people?" He repeated quietly, "who is... you people? There's only one of me here, Steele."

She rolled her eyes with a sneer, but didn't answer. Not that she needed to. Christian felt an impossible sadness as he deduced just who _you_ _people_ were. The system. Moreover, the people that were the cogs in the wheel of the system. People, who were supposed to and swore to help the vulnerable and downtrodden but so often took their power and abused those they pledged to protect. He had seen it before, in some of the girls, but nothing like the hatred that burned in the wide eyes before him. This girl... this girl had seen some shit, whether she would ever admit it or not. He opened his mouth slowly, but she beat him to the punch.

"Just get it over with," she exploded. "Not that I'm not enjoying our counseling session and all, but being in your company makes me feel sick. So, just get it over with so we can both be on our way and you can revel in your superior bliss..."

He frowned.

"Get what over with, Steele?"

She rolled her eyes so deliberately he could almost hear them swivel in their sockets and felt his teeth grind together. He really _did_ hate eye-rolling. Thrusting her chin up in defiance, she motioned impatiently to the paddle she had already experienced, where it hung silently on the wall.

"Your idea of _discipline_ ," she spat, eyes flashing, "that's what."

Glancing over to the shiny paddle, Christian shook his head as he turned back to her.

"No," he said quietly. "I'm not saying that you're not going to get it, you certainly have broken enough rules to have it permanently attached to your backside but, no... I'm not going to take that down until you talk to me."

She gawped at him and he felt a split seconds relief.

She was capable of honest emotion, after all. She was not yet too beyond the pale.

"You don't have the bottle for this job, Dean Grey."

It was said quietly, with what could arguably be defined as sympathy. Christian settled back in his chair and felt surprise at the complete lack of rage he felt at her words. This was something that was more likely to strike a nerve with him than anything else, he was well aware of how his staff whispered behind his back, thinking him weak in his treatment of the girls. Hearing it straight out from one of the girls themselves, was quite something.

"Oh? And why is that?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"I'm not here to save your career, that's your problem."

"Indeed it is," Christian replied quietly. "What you are here to do, on the other hand, is save yourself and that's all I'm trying to get you to do. Don't you see that? I'm not the enemy, Steele. Yes, I will absolutely kick your butt if you don't play by the rules and not lose a wink of sleep about it but my main purpose here is to get every girl who comes through these doors back on the right track. Not to make their lives hell, or... worse than they already are. So, I'll ask you again. What happened in Professor Hayden's class and why did he bring you to me?"

Anastasia studied him so intently that he suddenly felt violated.

"You don't agree with all the state rules that govern this place," she said suddenly, softly. "You think corporal punishment has its place and you will use it when necessary, but you despise the fact that you're forced to use it when you think other, softer measures will work. These beliefs isolate you from your older and more experienced staff who secretly can't wait to see you fail. You're a bleeding heart, Dean Grey, and bleeding hearts get chewed up by places like these. You should cut your losses now and use that fancy education of yours to get a job where you can be as... sensitive, as you like."

Christian's jaw yearned to drop but he held it up with considerable difficulty.

This girl... this Steele... she was right on the fucking money and it jarred him, unsettled him. But what disturbed him the most was the flat, hopeless tone of her voice. She didn't, for once, say what she said to insult him or display cheek for the sake of it. She genuinely believed what she was saying. Her powers of observation were unsettling, and far beyond her years, but all in all... she was genuine in her advice. _Bleeding hearts get chewed up in places like these_... he felt a chill within him. What the hell had happened to this girl?

"This isn't about me, Steele," he responded firmly, much more firmly than he felt. "Deflection isn't the path to success. Now, either you tell me what happened with Professor Hayden or I will have no choice to but to assume that everything he said is completely correct and punish you accordingly. That's not something I want to do, so last chance, what happened in that classroom?"

She seemed to be battling with herself and he was reminded of her demeanor at dinner.

"I was bored," she suddenly exploded. "You're teaching linguistics at an Elementary school level. It's ridiculous. We were conjugating verbs that a nine year old could do in their sleep. It's not reasonable to expect anyone with half a functioning brain to sit through that shit and pretend to like it."

That, he wasn't expecting.

"Watch the language," he remonstrated automatically, ignoring her scowl, thinking deeply. "So, are you telling me that you basically acted up in Professor Hayden's class because you were unchallenged by the level of work that was being carried on?"

"A monkey would be unchallenged by-"

"Yes or no, Steele."

"Yes," she drawled, eyes rolling. "I threw a couple of pen lids into the trash can, practicing my aim you know? Anyways, the old man went and had a coronary and here we are. You happy now? Now that we've shared all our feelings and such?"

He ignored the eye rolling with difficulty and came to a split second decision, not realizing the extent to which it would prematurely grey his hair. Standing up from his desk, he didn't miss the look of alarm on Anastasia's face as he strode across his office and fetched the familiar paddle down from its perch. By the time he turned back, the young face had completely stormed over, a mask of arrogance painted over the minuscule crack he had uncovered.

"Where do you want me?" She asked flatly.

"Where you are," Christian replied firmly, settling himself back behind his desk and placing the paddle on the surface top. She eyed him suspiciously as he leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"You told me when you came here the other day that you did your homework on me, yes?"

Her eyes narrowed as she nodded curtly.

"Did that investigation turn up the fact that I, like Professor Hayden, am qualified to teach linguistics? Or in my case, advanced linguistics."

She paled and he allowed himself a small, internal grin.

"Didn't think so. So, Cadet Steele, I won't have any girl under my purview feeling unchallenged academically or otherwise. So, welcome to the first day of the rest of your life. You and I are going to devise a new linguistics curriculum, just for you, taught by me... in your spare time."

She spluttered in anguish, shaking her head wildly.

"Oh no-"

"Oh yes," he interrupted smoothly. "I think this is a most fitting punishment for your actions today, don't you? You clearly hate me and so some quality time with me might do you the world of good and this way, you get some extra tuition. Oh and..."

His eyes trailed meaningfully to the paddle where it twinkled up at him.

"During your lessons, this will be on my desk... for ease of access if needed."

She paled another shade of white and stood up, outrage dancing in her eyes. Christian found himself fighting the most unusual desire to laugh. He would have a battle with Hayden later, he knew, but right now... it was all worth it.

"But-"

"You are dismissed now, Cadet Steele," he said sweetly. "I will be in contact with you after I've spoken to the administration staff about reallocating your recreation time to extra tuition time. You will be here at the correct time once I inform you of it, or God himself won't be able to help you. I don't have to remind you that refusal to follow the direct orders of a staff member can land a Cadet in the state pen. So, be clever and be here. Off you go."

She nearly spasmed with rage and defeat as she stood in front of him, hissing.

"If you're not gone in the next three seconds and on the way to your next allocated lesson, you will be going in three minutes but wit a very sore rear end, Steele," Christian warned lightly, quirking a _try_ _me_ brow in her direction.

He chuckled to himself, despite the slamming of his heavy office door and spoke softly to the empty room.

Grey; 02.

Steele; 00.

...

I admit it, I forgot about this little guy but we're back on track! Please let me know what you guys thought because this is quite different for me.


	8. Chapter 8

Christian looked up at the clock and felt his brow furrow.

Three minutes was late, sure, but it wasn't late late. He could perhaps justify the tardiness on the basis that Rec time was staring and the halls of SSA were alive with Cadets streaming in all directions to their chosen leisure activity. Shaking his head, he glanced back down at his backlog of emails and was soon lost in the never ending stream of bullshit bureaucracy. So lost, that by the time he rubbed his eyes tiredly after sending off a bitchy email he was quite proud of, it was twelve thirty.

A full thirty minutes past the time Steele was due to be in his office.

For her first session of extra tuition.

Heart sinking, he sat back in his chair and quietly groaned. He'd slept like shit last night and his patience was even thinner than usual. There was also a nagging sense of quiet disappointment that he firmly pushed down. Expectations were the root of all evil in this place. He had had so many Cadets break his heart over the years that he'd learned to keep his hopes low but his standards high. That way, when the odd Cadet failed to meet their potential, he knew he had done everything he could and it only plagued him for a couple of weeks... as opposed to the original couple of months. Having a principle of never giving up on a SSA girl was something that came at a personal cost that he had learned to accept... with great effort.

Just as he was about to tiredly pull himself out of the chair, an impertinent door knock came.

"Come."

The door burst open, completely without decorum, and Cadet Anastasia Steele strolled through the frame with her hands in her pockets and a devil-may-care grin on her face. The door snapped close with the force of its opening as she threw herself down in the chair across from Christian, cheerfully ignoring the glare that was masking his shock. Never, in the history of SSA, had he encountered a girl like this. One that could saunter into his office thirty one minutes later than they were supposed to and fall into a chair without permission.

He seethed.

"Take a seat why don't you?"

She grinned even wider, her eyes alight with bravado.

"Why thank you Dean Grey, how very gentlemanly of you."

Christian, for the millionth time that year, wondered what life would be like in some cushy private sector gig. He could have his pick, of course, and make quadruple what he pulled in now with a single stroke of his pen. He wouldn't have to deal with aggressive, impertinent and anti-social girls who hated him on sight. He wouldn't have to deal with a cohort of fossils/staff from whom he had to protect those aggressive, impertinent and anti-social girls. He'd sleep at night and not worry how the girls who he had felt, but had no power to intervene in, were not ready to leave SSA were getting on or how the ones that were still enrolled were progressing.

He would also hate to do anything else.

Catch 22 with cherries on top.

"Cadet Steele," he murmured darkly, snapping back to the present. "You were notified that every Wednesday and Friday you are to be in my office at twelve pm sharp. Not twelve-oh-one, not twelve-oh-two and certainly not twelve thirty one. I know that you are capable of telling the time. I know that you are capable of both speaking and understanding English. What I do not know is how in the world you have the cheek to barge in here, over half an hour late, without an apology or an explanation?"

His voice didn't raise in the slightest as he reprimanded the unperturbed Steele.

It rarely did,

She flicked her long, dark ponytail over her shoulder and examined her nails. Her legs were folded and swinging. She was the picture of bored nonchalance and Christian warred with himself in response. He wasn't an idiot. This girl was deliberately trying to provoke him, to see how far she could push him before he broke and behaved in the manner to which she was accustomed. Until he started screaming, ranting and raving. Until he lost control. He felt his lips twitch. All the homework in the world that she had done on him couldn't give her the answer she craved.

He never lost control with one of his girls.

Ever.

"We can sit here all day if you like, Steele," he said softly, countering her silence. "But you should know that the longer I have to wait for an answer, the more time you lose from your Rec. You're scheduled to see me every Wednesday and Friday... believe me when I tell you that I will have you in here every day of the week if I need to. So, stay silent if you want, it's your own nose you're cutting off to spite your own face."

She flinched.

Clearly, the idea of that much extra tuition was putridly abhorrent.

He smiled inwardly... there were always chinks in the armor.

"I was playing basketball and lost track of time," she muttered mutinously. "Won't happen again."

He frowned.

"You were playing basketball? Your stream was scheduled to be in Econ class an hour ago. How were you playing basketball?" His eyes narrowed and a prickle of raw irritation bit him. Was she seriously sitting there and telling him that she had skipped class and that's why she was late? He took a deep, calming breath. "How were you playing basketball when you were meant to be in class, Cadet Steele? Bear in mind, if you lie to me, I will know. Did you cut class?"

She glared at him and confusion lapped him.

"I didn't cut class," Anastasia snapped. "Your Coach Finnerty saw me shooting hoops during my last Rec tine and asked Mr Grogan if she could pull me from Econ to try out for this stupid team you have going here. It wasn't an option. Take it up with her if you don't believe me but I'm not a fucking liar - don't call me a liar."

He raised a brow at the language and silently praised Coach Finnerty and cursed himself.

Never, ever assume.

It was his own mantra and he'd broken it.

"Language, Steele," he barked, because he had to. "I apologize for the insinuation that you were lying." He faltered for a moment, unusually unsure of himself. "Did you make the team? The basketball team?"

She gaped at him and he felt his tiredness levels soar.

This girl... she hadn't even been with SSA for a full week and he was ten years older.

"What did you just say?"

He stared at her tone. It wasn't the usual snark and bluster. It was uncontrolled and reactive.

"...I asked you if you had made the basketball team?"

She shook her head, still staring at him with distrusting eyes.

"No... you apologized to me..."

He nodded slowly, wishing he spoke _girl_.

"Yes, I shouldn't have accused you of or insinuated that you were lying. I told you when you were in here before that I will always listen to you if you talk to me. So, yes, I apologize." Her gaze was disconcerting and so he decided to move on. "Okay, Steele, we'll let the lateness go this once. But be advised that I do not take to tardiness well. Not at all well. If you are late to our sessions in the future without good cause there will be consequences. Is that clear?"

She nodded almost absentmindedly, before blurting out-

"I did make the team. The basketball team... I made it."

"Congratulations, Steele," Christian said warmly. "That's fantastic. A lot of our girls, especially the ones who put in the work, often find themselves in staring positions on college teams. Coach Finnerty is very well connected with college scouts... make sure and pick her brain about programs that can work for you."

His eyebrows, were they not controlled by his iron restraint, would have shot through the roof, She, Anastasia Steele, the quickest, sharpest bane of his existence... gave him a small, small smile and nodded. Deciding to take full advantage of even the smallest show of willingness, he pushed on and grabbed the curriculum he had devised. He needed to ascertain her level of ability before finalizing it. Pointing to wide space between her chair and his desk, he cleared his throat.

"Pull that chair in, Steele, and let's have a look some of this."

She, mercifully without complaint, did as she was bid and Christian thanked his lucky stars for the small reprieve from her intense anarchy-like tendencies. Pulling out the books he had carefully selected, he relished his near forgotten love for linguistics as he guided her through the salient chapters, pausing and asking her opinion at varying stages. It didn't take long for him to realize something extremely promising.

Cadet Steele might be one hell of a handful but damn... she was smart.

Really smart.

Before either of them knew it, the allotted hour was up and Christian realized he would have to up the ante in terms of the lessons he had planned for Anastasia. As he made a few notes, he realized why she had acted up in Hayden's class. Not that he was excusing that kind of behavior, but for someone with Anastasia's abilities, it would have been torture. Settling back in his chair, he rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and realized that surprisingly, he had enjoyed the depth of her conversation.

"What do you like to read?" he queried, "What type of genre?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I like the classics. British, mostly. Bronte, Dickinson..."

Christian nodded approvingly and made a mental note to check if the poor excuse of a library SSA housed held copies. He doubted it, but he would make provisions if not. He looked across at a non-mutinous, perfectly serene looking Steele and felt a matching prickle of hope and pride. She had impressed him beyond measure today and perhaps she wouldn't be as hard to turn around as he had feared.

"You did well today, Steele," he praised gently. "Your ability is certainly very high."

She looked at him in surprise and opened her mouth to reply but she never got the chance. For the second time that day, Dean Grey's door was bashed in but this time it wasn't a Cadet that sauntered through. It was a very angry, positively foaming at the mouth, Ms Debra Cole. His Home Economics instructor. Usually a very mild mannered, motherly figure, Christian was shocked at the shade of puce she wore as she strode up to his desk and pointed at a suddenly uncomfortable looking Anastasia with a trembling finger.

"Dean Grey," Ms Cole hollered, "I demand that action be taken against this... this student, at once! Immediately. I demand that serious, deterrent action be taken with absolutely zero tolerance and I-"

"Ms Cole," Christian interrupted sharply, "I must insist that you calmly explain to me what the issue is, please?"

Debra drew herself up to her full height and pointed another finger of accusation at Anastasia who grinned and looked down at the ground, twirling her hair in her fingers. Christian felt his heart sink as he watched her. Gone was the bright eyed and animated young woman who had sped through his coursework with the intelligent commentary and the witty opinions. In her place was the grinning, impertinent Cadet he was much more familiar with.

"I instructed Steele during her first Home Economics lesson with me this morning to prepare a batch of brownies for the rest of the girls as a way of showing her skills and introducing herself as the new girl. Every single one of those girls are currently keeled over in the lavatories in a most dreadful condition and each one of those girls ate a brownie made by Steele!"

Christian stared from Steele to Cole in horror.

"Was there something in the brownies?" he asked quietly, asked of Anastasia. "Did you put something in them, Steele? Tell me now, while you have the chance."

Merely smirking at him, Anastasia shrugged her shoulders and choked back a laugh. There was no doubt that she had put something in them and had done so deliberately. Disappointment coursed through Christian like lava and he resignedly turned to Debra.

"Do you know what was in the brownies, Ms Cole?"

Her shriek of anguish was accompanied by Anastasia's spluttering, pealing laughter.

"Laxatives, Dean Grey. Laxatives!"

...

Just a side note: there will be no sexual/intimate relationship between Christian and Ana whilst she is at SSA! With his position and her position, I feel that would be wrong/creepy.


End file.
